


Family Weekend

by Signe_chan



Series: I'm on my way [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, being the son of a Zimmermann is hard, family weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: “What about you, Bitts?”“Don’t call me that. That’s my dad’s hockey name.”“Whatever. Are the Bittles coming to family weekend?”





	Family Weekend

“Hey, Bittle, watch out.” 

Michael spun, reaching up on instinct to shield his face and catching that god awful jockstrap he was sure had been here since his dads were here. He grimaced and threw it back in the direction of Johnsey, who was giggling like a fucking kid. 

“We should throw that thing away,” he said. “It’s probably got, like, syphilis on it.” 

“It’s good luck,” Socks said, wide eyed and serious. “You can’t throw it away.” 

“It’s been here, like, millenia. Didn’t it belong to the guy who wrote the bylaws on the Haus wall or some shit?” 

Michael grimaced again. He knew, of course, just who wrote the bylaws on the Samwell Hockey Haus wall and he didn’t want to think about Shitty’s Jock. He’d been exposed to more than enough of Shitty in the month when he and Lardo were looking for a place in Providence so they’d shared a house. Michael hadn’t been prepared for the level of casual nudity Shitty seemed to like. 

“Either way, you can’t throw it.” Socks grabbed a stick, notably not his own, and used it to poke the jock back into the corner. 

“Whatever.” Johnsey turned and grabbed his shirt. “Your parents coming down for the weekend, Socks?” 

“No,” he mumbled. “Mom’s got a thing.” They hadn’t come down last year, either. Michael couldn’t help but wonder if he’d like to borrow some relatives. After all, he lived in what Michael had been told was Ransom and Holster’s room, they might as well be his dads. 

“What about you, Bitts?” 

“Don’t call me that. That’s my dad’s hockey name.” 

“Whatever. Are the Bittles coming to family weekend?” 

***

Michael had been low-key dreading parent’s weekend for a while. 

He’d been kind of hinting to Eric for weeks that he didn’t need to come and, when that didn’t work, flat out saying it to Jack. Jack had just smiled like he didn’t know what Michael was getting at and told him they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Then, when Michael had insisted, had laughed and told him that they had to suffer through it, so did he. 

And it wasn’t like it should be a big deal. In his freshman year they’d left Lily with Shitty and Lardo and dragged him out to Annies and Jerry’s and told him all about how Ransom had gone years without trying brunch at Jerry’s. 

It’d been nice. Warm. He’d hugged them both goodbye and they’d left him missing them more than he had been before. Wishing they’d brought Lily up with them. Ready for the next trip home. 

This time, it’d be different. This time there was a match. This time the team would meet his family. 

This time he’d have to admit to his team that his other dad was Jack Zimmermann. 

***

“Goodness, this place hasn’t changed.” 

“I don’t know,” Jack said, following Eric into the kitchen. “I think it was cleaner when we lived here.” 

“When I lived here you mean, Mr Bittle. When you lived here without me the cupboards were full of Siracha and I think there were things growing on the counters.” 

“When you lived here,” Jack agreed, amiably. Michael left them to it, ducking out and hurrying up the stairs. Everyone should be out but that didn’t mean they would be. Johnsey sometimes skipped classes if he’d been super schwasted the night before and the weird Senior who lived in what apparently used to be Eric’s room, well, who even knew with him? 

But everything was quiet. Michael let out a sigh of relief and ducked into his room to grab his phone. He didn’t realize he’d been followed until he heard the voices behind him. 

“Well, isn’t this just nostalgic.” 

Of course, they’d followed him. They were stood in the door, smiling. 

“You can come in,” Michael grumbled. Eric had been here before when he’d helped Michael move in at the start of the year. Jack hadn’t been able to make it but Eric had been more than willing to fill Michael in on what used to be Jack’s room. On the reading room outside and how Jack had the room laid out. 

Michael had changed it, of course, but not by much. 

“Hey,” Jack said, guiding Eric in so they were stood in the middle of the room. “Remember this?” 

“Remember what, honey?” 

“This is where we first kissed.” 

Eric’s eyes went wide, he blushed. And great, now Michael was going to have to think about that the next time they had a Haus party and he brought someone up here. He sighed as his dads lent towards each other. 

Not that he wasn’t happy that they were still happy and shit but he wished they’d stop being so disgusting. He had to sleep in here. 

And he had a schedule to stick to. 

“Come on,” he said. “Jerry’s, remember. So you can tell me the Jerry’s stories again. Then I’ve gotta get ready for the game.” 

“Sure,” Eric said, smiling at him softly. “Lead on.” 

***

“Are your parents here, Johnsey?” 

“Sure,” Johnsey said, taping on his socks. “Well, my Mom. You know how my dad is.” 

Michael nodded because he’d heard enough about Johnsey’s dad. They’d had a heart to heart about it some time in their Frog year but where Michael had three more dads to choose from other than the one shitty one who’d abandoned him (even if one wasn’t here any more), Johnsey only had the one. 

“Sucks, man. Mine are here too.” 

“Awesome,” Socks said, shifting closer. “You’re going to bring them to say hi after, right?” 

No way in hell. “Sure, I’ll try. But they’re both pretty busy. I think they need to be back in Providence in the morning.” 

“I thought you said you left them at the hotel earlier?” 

Shit. “The hotel bar. They were getting drinks there, meeting some old friends.” Good. Everyone knew his dad’s had both been here. 

“Whatever,” Johnsey said, standing up and taking the time to gently tap Michael’s shoulder with his stick, like he did before every game. “Come on. Let’s go out there and win this.” 

***

They went out there and won it. 

***

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eric pulled him into a bone crushing hug and Michael tried to relax into it. Like with an injury, you just had to breath through it when Eric was this happy. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Nice goal in the second,” Jack said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “And good play all around. You did great.” 

Michael couldn’t help grinning. He knew he wasn’t the best guy on the team, that he probably wasn’t going to have NHL scouts sniffing around him, but he did okay. He was proud of how he played and it always felt good to make Jack proud. To make Eric proud. 

“Thanks,” he said, briefly squeezing Eric back. “Do you want to go wait by the car. I’m just gonna get changed.” 

“Actually…” Jack said, smiling a little. “I was wondering if you’d mind if we came down to the locker room. For old times sake, eh?” 

“No.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it that quickly. That loudly. It was like his mouth panicked and forgot to consult his brain. “No. I mean, you don’t need to. Wait by the car. I’ll be up in a minute.” 

But Jack was looking hurt, and a little worried. And Eric was biting his lip and fuck, he’d messed up. 

“I just thought…” 

“Honey, if he doesn’t want us to go we shouldn’t. I mean, maybe he doesn’t want the team to know he has dads?” 

And there was that damn unhappy Eric face. It wasn’t as obvious as Jack’s, he just kind of set his jaw and wrinkled his forehead and, fuck, Michael hadn’t meant to make him look like that. Hadn’t meant to make them think he was ashamed of them or something. 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then…” 

“It’s…” Shit. Shit. No time to think. “It’s just that you’re Jack Zimmermann.” 

Jack looked shocked. “What?” 

“They don’t know. I didn’t want them to know. It’s not that I don’t, like, love you or whatever. You’re my dad. It’s just that it’s hard. And I’m not ever going to play like you, alright? And I don’t want them to look at me and think…” 

“Michael, I don’t expect you to play like me. But, why didn’t you just tell me? I get it. We’ll wait by the car.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling for real now. “I mean, did you think it was easy being Bad Bob Zimmermann’s kid?” 

And oh. Oh. Michael was such a fucking loser. Of course Jack got it. 

“Sorry, dad.” 

“It’s no problem.” Jack pulled him in, hugging him tightly. “We’ll wait by the car, okay?” 

“Okay…” 

“Hey! Michael! Are those your dads?” 

Michael spun. Socks was down the end of the corridor, pads just off and face flushed. He’d had a fucking spectacular game that night. A shutout and Michael wanted to run over and hug him. Tell him how awesome he’d been. 

But he couldn’t. Because his dads were here. And Socks wanted to meet them. 

If it was Johnsey he’d tell him to fuck off. But it wasn’t. Just his luck. 

“Yeah,” he shouted back, before he could second guess it. “Come on over. Dads, this is Socks. I mean, Soul Komunyakaa. Socks, these are my dads.” 

Michael saw the second when Socks realized who he was looking at. His eyes had skipped across Eric, onto Jack, and frozen. 

There wasn’t anyone in the damn hockey world who didn’t know Jack Zimmermann. And now it was going to be weird. Now Socks was going to be interested in it. He’d tell the others and they’d all want to know about his dad like that was the most interesting thing about Michael and… 

“Hello, Mr Bittle,” Socks said, holding his hand out to Eric. “It’s awesome to finally meet you.” 

“You too, Soul,” Eric said. “Michael talks about you a lot.” 

“I talk about him a lot too,” Socks said, grinning, and Michael flushed. “Are you going to come down to the locker room? I bet Johnsey would love to meet you.”

“Not this time,” Jack said. He reached out an clapped Socks on the shoulder. “Great playing out there. Some of those saves… well, I can think of a few teams who could use a talent like that.” 

He stepped back, turned to pat Michael shoulder again. “We’ll see you out at the car, okay.” 

“Sure, dad. Won’t be long.” 

And then they were gone. Holding hands as they walked away like the dorks they were. 

It was quiet in the corridor. 

“So,” Socks said. “Your dad’s Jack Zimmermann?” 

“Yeah. Kind of.” 

“Cool. I guess you don’t want to tell the guys?” 

“I don’t want it to be a thing.” Michael shrugged.

“Sure. I won’t tell.” Socks smiled at him. “Though you could get an autograph for me. Come on, let’s get changed.” 

Michael nodded. He could. They could get changed and then he’d go to dinner with his dads and Johney would go out with his Mom for a bit and Socks would go back to the Haus. 

Alone. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing at Socks’s sleeve. “I mean, you don’t have to but… want to get dinner with me and my dads? I mean, you know now so?” 

“Yeah,” Socks said, quickly, smiling widely. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Having a Zimmermann for a dad is hard work! You're doing great Michael, keep it up! 
> 
> Only two more fic to go now. It's been a ride. Next one is short, one on Saturday a little longer.


End file.
